


Behind The Mask

by CMRandles



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, IT'S SO FLUFFY, Love, M/M, Sappy, Seriously it will give you cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMRandles/pseuds/CMRandles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is Andrea Rothfuss. She’s a PR consultant,” Director Fury says evenly. All of the heroes cringe. </p><p>    “I do not like where this is going,” Clint moans. </p><p>They all express similar complaints loudly and in unison until Fury bangs his fist on the table. “Hey!” He yells. “This is serious! People don’t want you to save them. Do you understand that? They’ll take the risk of a nuclear warhead or a pack of prehistoric predators because that seems less risky than the Avengers stepping in. Do you get it?” </p><p>  “We do,” Steve speaks up. “I understand this is serious. But how is...fixing our image going to help?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote a sad Stony (entitled "This is Not a Love Story") and I needed to redeem myself. In order to do so I wrote the sappiest goofiest love story I have ever conceived. Honestly, it's just drippy with lovey-dovey goodness (with bonus sex!).

  They are in bed when the sun rises, a comfortable tangle of limbs. Tony is, as always, the first to rise. He has always woken with the sun, no matter how late he was up the night before. If it’s light outside, his brain instructs his body that there is work to be done. His bladder also has a word or two to say on the subject. He opens his eyes and tries to move, but Steve snagged him somewhere over the course of the night and doesn’t seem to want to let go. Tony has become his teddy bear and cannot, without the use of heavy machinery, extract himself.

   “Steve,” he says gently, pushing on the arm which might as well be an iron bar across his chest. “Honey. I’m gonna explode.”

   This news stirs the super soldier, but not the parts of him that Tony had anticipated. Steve’s cock, directly connected to the word ‘explode’, apparently, has decided it is time to get up. Its owner starts making sleepy snuffling noises, cuddling Tony even tighter.

   “Agh, baby. You’re hot. I want you, but I am _so_ not into watersports. I need to get out of bed.”

   Steve makes an unhappy grumbling noise but lets him go. Tony scurries off to the bathroom and relieves himself with great, well, relief. When he returns Steve’s blue eyes are open, regarding him with full awareness. Tony has learned that the other man has only two settings - dead asleep or completely awake. There is no in between.

   “Sorry,” he says, climbing back into bed and snuggling up close, “I really had to piss.”

   “Is this pillow talk?” Steve asks, wrapping him up again and nuzzling Tony’s shoulder. Tony has also learned that Steve is quite the cuddle bug - and he is not complaining even one little bit.

   “No. Pillow talk is for _after_ sex, remember? We need to have sex first, and then pillow talk,” Tony reminds him, rooting around under the blankets until he finds the waistband of Steve’s pants. “Aw, man, what is this? I told you about the rule, didn’t I? No pants in the bed.”

   Steve fixes him with a serious look, propped up on his elbow. “We have the kind of jobs where we are routinely awoken in the middle of the night to respond to emergencies. I need to wear pants.”

   “You’re just going to put on your uniform anyway,” Tony whines, toying with the hem of said offending clothes.

   “Yeah and you want me to run out of your room and down to the gear closet buck naked?” Steve asks.

   “People would pay you money for that sight,” Tony observes.

   “It’s not really the way I’d pictured announcing to the team that we’re an item.”

   Tony’s face changes then, brightening unexpectedly. “Is that what we are? An item?”

   Steve looks uncertain like he might have stepped in something unfortunate. “Aren’t we? We’ve been seeing each other for almost a month.”

   “Seeing each other naked,” Tony amends, “and what an almost-month it’s been! So, should we start picking out china together or curtains or whatever? Buy matching Hawaiian shirts? ”

   Steve rolls his eyes. “Thank you for ruining the moment.”

   “I’m just trying to work the conversation back to sexy time. We have a limited window during which I can get you naked and sweaty and I’d like not to lose it.”

   On the bedside table, Steve’s phone chimes and they both look over. For a moment, it looks like it can be ignored, but when the gentle trilling of his ringtone turns into a screaming klaxon and they both know that their window has closed.

  


   The emergency is a hostage situation at an office building. An armed man entered the building twenty minutes ago and has pointed a gun at an entire board room of very very VIPs. Also, he has explosives strapped to his chest - you know, like you do. So the Avengers arrive, ready to assess the scene and jump right in, but their path is blocked by a ring of people holding signs.

   “We don’t want you here,” a woman with white cornrows announces. She is holding a sign that has the word Heroes crossed out and replaced with Zeroes.

   The team stops, unsure of how to proceed.

   “I’m sorry, what?” Iron Man says, stepping to the front and facing the smaller woman. “Do you maybe not know who we are? We have a giant tower. It’s hard to miss.”

   “I know exactly who you are, Iron Man,” she spits, making his superhero name sound like a filthy curse. “And you are not wanted here. We want the police to handle this. The trained professionals.”

   “Yeah!” cries another voice in the background. “You’ll only end up getting more people killed.”

   The heroes all look at one another, trading bemused expressions.

   “Well, good thing it’s not up to you,” Iron Man replies.

   “What’s your name?” Captain America asks.

   “Candice Carter,” the woman replies stiffly. “I’m the president of End Vigilanti Actionable Crime.”

   “EVAC?” Hawkeye repeats. She looks at him, challenging him to make a joke.

   “What are you after here?” Captain America asks.

   “Man, we don’t have time for this. People are going to die if we don’t get in that building right now,” Iron Man insists. “Let the hippies stick flowers in rifles later. We have shit to do right now.”

   “He’s got a point,” Black Widow puts in.

   “We won’t let you past,” Candice warns.

   “Good thing we have other options,” Iron Man shoots back and takes off into the air.

   “Iron Man,” Steve says into the comms, “what’s your game plan?”

   “Uh, let’s see. Get in, stop the bad guy, save the pretty ladies, call it a day,” Tony answers.

   “Not without me, young man,” Thor says, swinging his hammer until he too is no longer bound by land.

   “Man, this is so unfair,” Hawkeye whines. “We can’t all fly.”

   “The target is on the sixtieth floor, west side. Try to get a look without letting him see you before you move in,” Black Widow advises.

   Candice steps forward, poking Captain America in the considerable chest. “You can’t do this. Vigilantism is illegal.”

   “We’re not vigilantes, lady,” Hawkeye replies, rolling his eyes. “Read a flippin’ newspaper.”

   “Excuse me, did you just call me ‘lady’?” she says back, her tone sharp and her voice loud.

   “Are you...not?” he answers, momentarily confused.

   “Stop. Stop talking now,” Natasha says.

   Bruce is watching over their heads as Thor and Iron Man attempt to sneak around the building, hovering close and peering around the corner. “What do you see?” he asks.

   “There’s the target and we’ve got one, two, three...six hostages in plain view. He’s talking to them, waving a gun around. Handgun, semi-auto. Looks agitated. Probably hopped up on something.”

   “He does not appear to be hopping,” Thor puts in.

   “It’s an expression,” Bruce says helpfully. “Can you see what kind of bomb he’s wearing?”

   “He’s got his back to the window. But there’s something in his left hand. A detonator, probably. Judging by the look of this guy I think we’re looking at something he cooked up using instructions on the internet.”

   Things on the ground were not improving. Candice, now backed by several other members of EVAC was screaming at the heroes who did their level best to ignore her.

   “Should I go in?” Tony asks. “I can grab him, fly out the other side and get him away from any other civilians.”

   “What?” Captain America says, covering his ears to try to block out the chanting happening around him. “Do not engage, Tony. Not until we know what kind of bomb he has.”

   Iron Man glances at Thor behind him. “You’ve got my back, right?”

   “Always, son of Anthony.”

   “I heard the word ‘engage’, didn’t you?”

   “It was indeed spoken thusly.”

   “Tony!” Steve shouts into his helmet. He is surrounded now by people yelling and waving signs in his face, as are they all.

   Iron Man flies through the window of the office building with Thor trailing immediately after him.

   “I can’t see what’s happening,” Bruce says in a strangled voice. He turns and is hit in the face with a placard reading _Who Are the Real Criminals?_ Things escalate very quickly after that.


	2. Two

   Later, they are all sitting in a conference room at SHIELD like naughty children awaiting a parental conference. No one speaks. Arms are crossed, eyes downcast. Bruce is wearing an ill-fitting t-shirt that someone rustled up from a supply closet. Tony is impatiently pacing at the back of the room, nervously clicking a pen over and over again. 

   The door bangs open and two people walk in. One of them is an unknown female in an expensive and well-tailored suit. The other is Director Fury. He looks about as unhappy as any of them have ever seen him. 

   “Another day, another PR disaster,” he says before he’s even fully in the room. “It’s like someone else came along and gave you the real mission of fucking up my life. Because every time I turn around one of you is knocking down a building or clobbering a group of innocent bystanders.” 

   “There was nothing innocent about those whack jobs,” Tony interjects. 

   “How would you know? You were busy disregarding orders and flying off with the target!” Steve demands irritably. 

   “The target, which I neutralized,” Tony responds. “I think breaking his left arm first counts as neutralized, don’t you, Thor?” 

   “Indeed,” booms the Asgardian. 

   “I am not even talking about your actual mission, which you only managed to bungle slightly,” Fury continues. “I’m talking about Banner going apeshit in the middle of a protest.” 

   “They were menacing him, sir. Shouting, waving signs in our faces, they were clearly out of line,” Natasha says calmly and for once the Director looks like he is paying attention. 

   He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “These EVAC people are not going away. In fact, if they’re not all on their way to be interviewed by every news media outlet there is I’ll eat my eyepatch. Not only have you not silenced their protest, you’ve given it legitimacy. Your image issues are only going to get worse from here.”

   “Nick, I hate to have to keep spelling this out for you all the time. Omelets, eggs, some of them get messed up,” Tony puts in, standing with his arms crossed. 

   “And you’re comfortable with that?” The unknown woman speaks up. She has a beautiful voice with a lyrical accent. 

   “I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” Tony asks irritably. 

   “This is Andrea Rothfuss. She’s a PR consultant,” Director Fury says evenly. All of the heroes cringe. 

   “I do not like where this is going,” Clint moans. 

   They all express similar complaints loudly and in unison until Fury bangs his fist on the table. “Hey!” He yells. “This is serious! People don’t want you to save them. Do you understand that? They’ll take the risk of a nuclear warhead or a pack of prehistoric predators because that seems _less_ risky than the Avengers stepping in. Do you get it?” 

   “We do,” Steve speaks up. “I understand this is serious. But how is...fixing our image going to help?” 

   Andrea Rothfuss leans on the back of a chair. A perfect curl falls around her oval face. “Image is everything, Captain. Right now people see you as a threat, a loose cannon. As a group, you’re perceived as outright dangerous, and as individuals, you aren’t relatable. If we can repair the damage, help the citizens see you in a different light they’ll start assisting you instead of standing in your way. Isn’t that preferable?” 

   “How do you plan to do that?” Bruce asks. 

   “Hold on, hold on,” Tony steps forward. “I’ve been in the public eye since I was born and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you’re better off not caring what people think about you. I could spend every minute and every last dollar trying to control my image, but it doesn’t matter. This isn’t a solution, it’s a band-aid.” 

   Rothfuss faces him with a look of such searing intensity that Tony’s bravado falters. “On the contrary, Mr. Stark, I think you’ve done a wonderful job of controlling your image. The public think you’re a womanizing rebel without a responsible bone in his body. You’ve worked very hard to cultivate that persona and I’d say it’s served you well. But it’s also made you remote, untouchable. No one else knows what it’s like to have a life of such excess. No one else can understand what it’s like to be you - any of you. I mean, are any of you even in a functional relationship at the moment?” 

   She looks around the room and they all shift uncomfortably, except for Natasha who stares straight ahead. Tony and Steve exchange the briefest look but hold their tongues. 

   “I’m married,” Clint says. 

   “Oh? And where’s your wife?” Rothfuss asks. 

   “Canada.” 

   She rolls her eyes. “That’s not exactly helpful. But you see what I mean, don’t you? You don’t seem like normal people.” 

   “We aren’t normal people,” Bruce replies. “We’re not going to be.” 

   “But you are still people. And that’s my point,” Rothfuss moves to sit down across from them. “We need to let the public see your softer side, what’s behind the mask.” 

   “My bad feeling is not going away,” Clint interrupts. 

   Rothfuss glances at Fury, who gives her a subtle nod. “I want to make a documentary. Hear me out!” she adds when everyone starts arguing again, “Just one week. My team will be with you for one week, you decide where they can and can’t go, and you all get final approval over the result. If one of you isn’t happy then we start over. Nothing airs without one hundred percent approval.”

   “We are in the business of saving the world,” Tony says in a low voice, bracing his hands on the table and leaning in, “We can’t have people following us around with cameras all the time. Not to mention the risk to national security if the wrong information was broadcast.” 

   “We can work those things out,” Rothfuss replies in a soothing voice. “It’ll be a thirty-minute special, time enough to show what life is really like for the Avengers. We’ll follow you to some events, see everyone hanging out around the tower, just normal stuff. Nothing that would compromise any security efforts.” 

   “Why would Midgardians find this to be entertainment?” Thor asks.

   “Thor, remember when we showed you Jersey Shore?” Natasha replies with a raised eyebrow. 

   The demigod looks momentarily horrified. “But we do not...engage in such sexual and lewd behavior! I am not a Snookie!” 

   “No, you’re not. Which is why this is a documentary and not a reality TV show,” Rothfuss interjects. “It’s going to be tasteful and insightful and I swear it will bring the tide of public opinion back on your side.” 

   They are all silent. Looks are exchanged. Brows are furrowed. Finally, Steve leans forward and says, “You do it all on our terms.” 

   “Absolutely,” Rothfuss agrees immediately, seeing her victory. 

   “And nothing goes forward without our approval,” Steve continues. 

   “Nothing,” she repeats. 

   “I still think this sounds like a terrible idea,” Clint announces, “but if Cap is behind it...I guess I am too.”

   There are several other murmurs of agreement. Tony’s voice is not among them. He is standing with his arms crossed looking petulant. Steve catches his eye and they silently communicate. Tony sighs. 

   “Fine,” he grunts. 

   “Great,” Rothfuss says, reaching for her briefcase. “You can start by signing image releases.” 

  
  


   Tony is down in his workshop with his feet on the table, idly swiping through blueprints with a finger and flicking them away. Billie Holliday is playing quietly in the background. The door opens behind him and he doesn’t even have to look to know who it is. 

   “Hey,” he says over his shoulder. 

   “Hey,” Steve replies, leaning down and resting his chin on the top of Tony’s head. “What are you doing?” 

   “Making a list of all the places Rothfuss and her crew aren’t allowed to go while they’re filming us. Which is basically anywhere,” Tony says and there is a note of bitterness in his voice that Steve cannot ignore. 

   “I know you don’t like it-” he begins but is cut off when Tony spins around, catching him off balance. 

   “It’s not just that I don’t like it, Steve. I do think it’s stupid, don’t get me wrong, but I also don’t think it’s going to do any good. It’ll just make us all into even bigger celebrities and if there’s one thing people love to do it’s to hate on celebrities.” 

   Steve frowns, puts his hands in his pockets. “I can see your point. What would you rather do?” 

   This is obviously not what Tony is expecting. He flounders, searching for words. “I...uh...hadn’t thought that far.” 

   Steve smiles. “Didn’t expect me to take your side, did you?” 

   “Honestly? No.” 

   Steve bends down, bracing his hands on the arms of Tony’s chair and kissing him softly. All further arguments fly from Tony’s mind as he reaches up to cup Steve’s face. They embrace for a long sensual moment before Steve pulls away. 

   “Will you give it a try?” he asks quietly. 

   Tony sighs. “I feel like this is cheating,” 

   Steve answers by making a sad puppy face that no human being has the power to resist. His lower lip is pouting and everything. 

   “Aw! The face! This is so unfair,” Tony grouses. “Okay, okay. You win. I’ll cooperate. But not happily.” 

   ‘Fair enough,” Steve murmurs, and kisses him again. “I came down here to see if I could convince you to come to bed.” 

    Tony glances at the clock. “It’s only eleven.” 

    “I didn’t say you had to go to sleep.” 

   The genius grins. “Well, now you’re talking. Lead the way, handsome.” 

    Steve takes his hand, pulling him to his feet and out of the room. The lights shut off after them, the music fading into silence.  


	3. Three

    A few days later Steve returns from a run to find a horde of people descending on the tower. He weaves through the crowd looking for a familiar face before finally spotting Andrea Rothfuss engaged in heated conversation with Tony by the dining room table. They are standing at opposite ends and between them is a round device about the size of his closed fist that looks almost like an oversized egg, all smooth plastic. 

    “Good morning,” he says, making his presence known. 

     “Good morning, Captain,” Rothfuss says. As always, she is impeccably put together. She steps forward to shake his hand and gestures to the object on the table. “I was just introducing Mr. Stark to the film crew.” 

    Steve’s brow furrows with confusion. Maybe this is one of those 21st-century references that he doesn’t get, but should. He opens his mouth to ask a question when Andrea reaches over and pushes a button on the front of the device. Immediately a red light glows from the center of the egg and it hovers off of the table. 

    “Target, Steve Rogers,” she says and the egg flies towards him, making a slow circle around his body. 

    “It’s a camera?” he guesses. 

    “Right you are. I knew you were more than just another pretty face,” Rothfuss cooes, “this is how we are going to get around the issue of putting any actual humans in harm's way while we’re filming. These devices will be assigned to each of you and will collect footage from a discreet distance with the added benefit of being able to follow you into battle.” 

    Steve, who has been turning himself in a circle to track the device, nods in wonderment. “That’s cool.” 

    “I think it’s creepy,” Tony puts in. 

    “You’d rather have humans with cameras invading your personal space?” Rothfuss retorts. 

    “I’d rather keep my personal space personal. But seeing as that’s not an option at least these things are small enough to get accidentally stuck in, say, a microwave.” 

    Steve shoots him a look of disapproval. 

    “Not that I would do any such thing, of course,” Tony quickly adds retreating behind his coffee mug.  

    “They’re state of the art, equipped with microphones and a top-of-the-line camera,” Rothfuss explains, ignoring him. “We have several of them set up at the house and a few more with more rugged housing meant to follow you when you leave.” 

    “I love that phrase, ‘follow you when you leave’,” Clint says, striding into the room in his pajamas. “It feels so comfortingly stalker-like.” 

    “It’s only for a week,” Steve reminds him. He's not quite sure when he became the advocate for this project, but it's a role he fills comfortably. 

    Rothfuss gestures for him to follow her, which he does, feeling her hand steering him at the small of his back. He glances over his shoulder at Tony who is scowling. The egg-cam follows, hovering a few feet away. 

    “Is that thing still recording?” he asks. 

    Rothfuss shrugs off the question. “It doesn’t matter. We wouldn’t use this stuff anyway. Listen, Captain, I am going to level with you. You’re the public favorite. You know that, right? People like you. You’re a boy from Brooklyn, responsible, an all-around good guy. We’re going to end the documentary with a fundraising banquet to raise money for inner-city orphans or something. It doesn’t matter. The point is, there’ll be dinner, dancing -” 

   Steve visibly flinches at the word. Rothfuss pauses, narrowing her eyes. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?” 

    “Sure,” Steve lies awkwardly. This isn’t exactly something he wants to discuss. 

    She looks unconvinced but does not pursue it further. “I need you to make a speech at the dinner. Something sentimental - about being a New Yorker. You understand, right?” 

    He nods, feeling his gut clench. 

    “You’ll do it?” 

    He nods again. “Sure.” 

    “Great!” Rothfuss cries, slapping him on the shoulder. “That is wonderful news. We start filming tomorrow - you’ll let everyone know, won’t you? And keep in mind that the more disasters you guys can resolve during the next six days the better off we’ll all be.” 

    He considers pointing out to her that they don’t exactly schedule these things, but settles for nodding again. His mind is still on the speech she has asked him to give, his stomach roiling with something...he thinks it might be fear. How strange that a man can face down a literal dragon with nothing but the surety of his own victory but ask him to speak before a crowd and he’d rather run as far away as possible. 

    “Okay, guys,” Rothfuss says, turning to the mob that has descended on their kitchen, “pack it up. Time to go.” 

    “About time,” Clint mutters. Then, when Steve returns, “What did she want?” 

    “They’re throwing some big fancy party at the end of the week. We all have to go and I...have to give a speech.” 

    “Better you than me,” Bruce says sympathetically, having snuck in unnoticed at some point. 

    “Big fancy party, huh? That’s in your wheelhouse, Stark,” Clint says, elbowing the genius and inadvertently splashing his coffee. 

    “Hey!” Tony cries, frowning. “Watch your elbows.” 

    “Apparently there will be dancing,” Steve adds quietly. Tony’s head snaps up, facing him quizzically. He knows, of course, about Peggy and the date that never was and his considerable brain is no doubt putting the pieces together. 

   Clint executes a clumsy bump and grind, which makes everyone laugh and roll their eyes. “That’s great, just keep doing that and no one will pay any attention to the rest of us.” 

   The egg-cam is still circling Steve from a respectful distance, a silent observer. Clint faces it and pelvic thrusts a few times pulling a face. “Like that?” he yells at the unblinking eye of the camera. 

   “This is going to be a weird week,” Bruce sighs. 

   It surprises all of them how easy it is to forget about the cameras. They move silently, hovering a few feet away and behaving in a surprisingly sneaky manner, almost as though they were programmed to hide. There are dozens of the egg-cams stationed all over the tower but the team hardly seems to notice them. Tony, who has decided to be vigilant on this score, seems to always know where they are lurking but even he sometimes gets distracted and lets his guard down. This is, no doubt, exactly what Rothfuss and her team are hoping for. 

   Tony and Steve are down in the lab, puttering around, toying with upgrades to Steve’s body armor and generally just enjoying each other’s company, when there is a loud pop. 

   Steve jumps, “What is that? It sounded like the world’s biggest bug zapper.” 

   Tony rolls his chair back a few feet and scoops up one of the egg-cams, still smoking, off the ground. “My lab is one of the no-no zones we agreed on. And you can see how much that matters to these scumbags. So, I created a program that keys off the electronic signature of the cameras and gives ‘em a few volts when they violate the restraining order.” He tosses the deactivated camera from hand to hand, looking satisfied with himself. “It’s foolproof.” 

   “There was no non-destructive way to keep your privacy?” 

   Tony rolls his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

   Steve relaxes back into his chair with a sigh and continues staring out into space like he has been doing for the past hour. Tony rolls over, bumping their chairs together. 

   “Hey,” he says, poking Steve in the ribs, “what’s eating you? You’ve got that thousand-yard stare again.” 

   Steve reaches over and touches Tony’s arm, rubbing gently. It still surprises Tony how physically affectionate the other man is when they’re alone. He’s never been with someone who wanted to touch and kiss as much as Steve does. 

   “Is it the dancing thing?” Tony guesses. He can see by the look on Steve’s face that he is right. He reaches out, smoothing an errant hair away from Steve’s worried face. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

   Steve shrugs. “I don’t know what to say, really. I know it shouldn’t be that big a deal-” 

   “Nah, fuck that. It is a big deal. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says. What happened to you....it’s not for anyone else to say whether or not it matters. Only you decide that.”

   When Tony meets his eyes Steve is gazing at him with such affection it makes him falter. 

   “Now, I can help with the practicalities, if you want,” Tony says, clearing his throat to cover his own answering swell of emotion. 

   “Meaning?” 

   “I can teach you how to dance.” 

   Steve looks surprised. “Really?” 

   “Sure. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, remember? Dancing lessons are part of the package. You’ll probably need to know the waltz at a minimum. C’mon, get up, let’s do this.” 

   Steve pushes out of his chair, smiling. 

   A quarter of an hour later they are both so frustrated they cannot speak. Tony expected that this would be easy, but it turns out that he only knows how to lead, not follow and Steve does not have a natural instinct for rhythm. They are standing apart, breathing heavily. Steve’s fists are clenched. 

   “How am I supposed to learn if you won’t let me lead?” he demands. 

   This seems to Tony to be an allegory for their entire relationship. 

   “Okay, okay,” Tony says taking a deep breath. “We need reinforcements.” 

   A few minutes later they are standing in the gym and Tony is pleading with Natasha for her assistance. She is in her workout gear, having just finished a sparring session with the robot Tony designed for this purpose. Her hair is in a tight bun atop her head. She does not look impressed by Tony’s argument.

   “What makes you think I even know how to waltz, much less teach someone?” she asks. 

   “Come on. You’re a spy. You know all sorts of things,” Tony counters. 

   She sighs, looking at Steve who is hunched into himself like a wounded animal. This seems to change her mind. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Come here, big guy.” 

   “JARVIS, music,” Tony says and steps back to watch. 

   Natasha is a much better teacher than Tony is. She is patient, firm, and guides Steve to where he needs to be. In only ninety minutes he has the waltz step mastered, swinging her around the floor like he was born to do it. Tony watches, leaning his chin in his hand and trying not to feel too jealous. The two of them look very good together. He spots an egg-cam out of the corner of his eye, hovering above a stack of exercise mats, and wonders what the public will make of this display. 

   When they finish Steve is grinning like he just invented the cure for cancer. He looks at Tony with such pride and triumph that the genius’s heart melts. He gives him a double thumbs up. 

   “You’ll do great,” Natasha says and leans up to kiss his cheek. 

   “Thank you,” he says, squeezing her shoulders. 

   Tony feels that stab of jealousy again but tamps it down. Natasha heads off to hit the showers and the egg-cam follows her, gliding silently through the doors. The music is still playing and Steve moves to it, mimicking the motions he had gone through with Natasha though now with an invisible partner. Tony works his way over and steps effortlessly into the circle of his arms. 

   Steve glances around, instinctively checking to see if they are alone. They have both gotten into this habit and it bugs Tony. He’d like to have everything out in the open, but he’s not ready to advocate for that yet. Hell, he doesn’t even know if they’re dating yet. They haven’t really done anything together outside of fucking and saving the world. And heaven knows he’s not going to be the one to start that conversation. Having confirmed that they are alone, and without the presence of documentary-bots, Steve relaxes, enfolding Tony and swaying gently.  

   The music changes. The Righteous Brother’s Unchained Melody plays. JARVIS is so good sometimes that it frightens his creator. Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, linking his fingers. 

   “Sorry about earlier,” he says quietly. 

   Steve nods. “Me too. I overreacted. This is a sore area for me.” 

   “I know. I should have been more sensitive, probably. I’m just not...well, sensitive,” he finishes smiling ruefully. 

   “Can’t be good at everything,” Steve points out. He puts one big hand on Tony’s back, holding him tightly until Tony relaxes, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder. They rock back and forth, moving in a small slow circle. 

   Tony thinks that this is the moment he should say it, tell Steve how he feels, answers the question he’s been dodging since the first time they fell into bed together. He presses his lips to the side of Steve’s neck and tries to make himself speak. He cannot. He’s too afraid to make a declaration, to be the first one putting himself out there. 

   “Thank you,” Steve says in his ear. It sounds an awful lot like _I love you._

   “My pleasure,” he whispers hoping that he hears _I love you too._


	4. Four

Andrea Rothfuss is dismayed by the lack of excitement during the first four days of shooting. She hasn’t directly come out and said as much, but the way she is probing, asking if they’re sure there aren’t any leads they could be following up on, tells the team all they need to know. Clint and Tony are actually smug like they had been deliberately avoiding saving the world just to piss her off. Directory Fury just looks like he would rather this meeting be over with. His eye is on the documentary-bots which whiz around the room filming the team from all angles. 

   “I’m not sure what else we can do,” Steve says, “there just isn’t anything to respond to right now.” 

   Rothfuss sighs. “I understand. Okay, well, we still have two more days of shooting left plus the banquet, so maybe that will be enough. I just...wish we could spice it up a little.” 

   “Sorry there hasn’t been a terrorist attack or anything,” Clint says, “very inconvenient for you.” 

   Everyone ignores him. 

   “Can we go now?” Tony asks, rising from his chair. “Some of us have real work to do.” 

   At the same moment, both Director Fury and Steve’s phones ring. Everyone snaps to attention. Andrea Rothfuss looks like it’s Christmas morning. 

   “What is it?” she asks breathlessly. 

   Steve answers first, swiping up his mobile and stepping away. When he turns back around his face is grim. 

   “We’ve got a situation.” 

   Rothfuss actually claps her hands. No one thinks very much of her after that. 

  
  


   The situation they are faced with is a group of AIM operatives on a rooftop attempting to install what looks like the world’s largest lightning rod. 

   “Is it time for the science fair already?” Tony asks, landing beside his fellow Avengers as they take in the scene. 

   “Tell me that’s not to control the weather,” Clint says. 

   “A power not for welding by amateurs,” Thor puts in, frowning. 

   “We won’t have any idea what it is until we get closer. They’ve got the building surrounded, covered on all sides by armed men. We need to break the perimeter, figure out what they’re doing and disable it. Iron Man, Thor, you’re on roof duty. Natasha, Clint, you’re with me on the ground. Bruce-” 

   “I know, hang back until we need you,” he answers dutifully. “Feed me what you can on the device, Tones. I’ll make what I can out of it.” 

   “You got it,” Iron Man says through his helmet. One of the camera-bots flies by him, making a wide circle. 

   “Everyone ready?” Captain America asks, adjusting his shield. 

   “Ready ready,” Clint confirms, nocking an arrow. 

   “Be safe. Let’s go,” he says and they all take off into the street. 

   Natasha and Clint head in first, her with her Widow’s Bite and him with arrows full of gas which explode at the feet of the soldiers and knock them out cold. They dodge a hail of gunfire, as Captain America rushes into the fray, his shield deflecting bullets left and right. He plows through the bulk of the force, pushing his way towards the roof access ladder. 

   Iron Man and Thor fly up to the roof, dealing with their own set of problems. Thor readies a lighting strike but is stopped when Tony throws out an arm. “Wait! Hold on, god of Thunder. We don’t know what they’ve got down there and if we zap it at the wrong time it could be very, very bad. Like, wake up in another timeline kind of bad.” 

   Thor pauses, nodding. “I shall put Mjolnir to a different use,” he agrees and starts battering AIM operatives off the roof with great relish. 

   “Keep ‘em busy,” Tony says and starts running scans on the device they are erecting on the rooftop. “Sending you what I’ve got, Brucie baby.” 

   “I’m getting it,” Bruce says in his ear. 

   There is a hail of gunfire and Tony retaliates, knocking two men off the roof at once. Below him, Hawkeye and Captain America are dispensing with the remaining opposition handily while Natasha scales the roof. 

   “Bad news,” Bruce speaks over the comms again. 

   “Not weather control?” Thor asks. 

   “‘Fraid not. Time travel. Looks like they’re trying to open a portal to an alternate timeline.” 

   Tony sighs. “When will someone have an original idea again? Honestly, it’s like the same three things every week.” 

   “At least we know how to deal with this one,” Steve points out, kicking a soldier in the face. 

   “You take out the rest of these goons, I’ll work on disabling it,” Natasha says, sliding between the legs of one guy as she shoots another. She slides up next to the device’s control station and starts to work. Thor watches her back, hurtling his hammer at anyone who comes near. 

   “This isn’t a particularly good design,” Bruce observes. “It’s not very stable. Be careful when you-” 

   His voice is interrupted when Natasha is grabbed by the legs and hurtled away by one of the largest men any of them have ever seen. 

   “Oh, he’s not from around here,” Tony says. 

   Natasha turns in the air, grabbing on to the edge of the roof and holding on for dear life. Tony and Thor team up against the giant, taking turns swinging the hammer and firing blasts. Steve, who has made his way onto the roof, helps Natasha up. 

   “Ok?” he asks. 

   “Yeah,” she answers. “Just pissed off.” 

   “Have at him,” he says, grinning. 

   She joins the fray and between the four of them they manage to take down the behemoth. Tony breaks off at one point, turning to work on the portal device which is now throwing off unsettling purple sparks. 

   “This puppy is gonna shit the bed,” he warns. “I’m not sure I can put it down in time.” 

   “What does that actually mean?!” Clint yells. 

   “It’s going to blow up! Big boom!” He answers back. 

   “Should we evacuate?” Steve asks, throwing the gigantic man, now unconscious, off to one side. 

   “Gimme...one…” 

   “Need a hand?” Natasha asks, approaching. 

   “No, don’t!” Tony yells, but it is too late. As soon as her fingers touches the control panel it explodes, blowing her backward ten feet and straight off the roof. Steve dives for her, reaches out his arm and misses her by two inches. She plummets straight down and out of sight. 

   “You know what, fuck this,” Tony snarls, standing back and firing a repulsor blast at the portal device. It immediately powers down, collapsing into smoldering wreckage. Then he hurries to catch up with the rest of the team at the edge of the roof. 

   “Jesus Christ,” Tony moans, looking down at the sight of Natasha’s broken body on the ground. Clint is already beside her, moving her gently, feeling her neck for a pulse. 

   “She’s alive,” he breathes. “We’re gonna need help.” 

   “Emergency services are on their way,” JARVIS reports. 

   “Get me down there,” Steve says, his voice shaking. Tony picks him up and together they kneel beside their friend. No one notices the little white cameras circling them all the while. 


	5. Five

Things at the hospital are tense. The Avengers are all there, crowded into the waiting area and waiting tensely for any news. Tony, still in the armor, is pacing back and forth, clanking with every step. Steve is sitting staring straight ahead, barely blinking. Thor is asleep with his head on Bruce’s shoulder and Clint is staring miserably out the window. They have been there for hours. 

   They’ve been told Natasha’s condition is critical. She suffered extensive internal injuries and was rushed to surgery as soon as they came in the door. That was the last they heard hours ago and now they are forced to wait. They are still being filmed. 

   “Okay, coffee time. I’m buying. Who wants in?” Tony says, unfolding himself from the armor and letting it stand against the wall. 

   Clint shakes his head. Bruce gestures at the sleeping demigod atop him. Steve doesn’t respond. 

   “Cap?” Tony says, laying a hand on his shoulder. The big man jumps, startled, and blinks. 

   “What?” he asks blearily. 

   “Coffee run. You in?” 

   Steve runs a hand over his face. “Sure, yeah. Okay. Let’s go.” 

   The two of them walk into the break room trailed by two little white flying cameras. Tony busies himself pouring coffee out of the machine, handing a styrofoam cup to Steve. He puts his hand over Steve’s, ducking down until he can meet the other man’s eyes. 

   “It’s going to be all right,” he says. “This is Natasha we’re talking about here.” 

   Steve looks away. “You don’t know that.” 

   Tony sighs, fixing his own coffee which he sips with a grimace. “No, you’re right. But I do know that we’ve never been in a situation before she couldn’t handle. She’ll get through this. I know she will.” 

   Steve’s face darkens. Tony thinks for a moment, then snaps his hand out seizing one of the little cameras. He tosses it in the coffee pot where it sizzles and goes dark. He looks at the other flying pod, which immediately turns around and flies out of the room leaving them alone. 

   “I knew there had to be some kind of AI inside those things,” he murmurs. Tony wastes no further time, setting aside Steve’s cup and wrapping him up in his arms. 

   “What’s going on?” he asks, feeling the tension drain from Steve’s muscles at the touch. 

   “I...I should have caught her, Tony. She was right there. If I had been faster…” Steve’s voice is hoarse, choked. It breaks when he says, “Just like Bucky.” 

   Tony’s heart breaks a little too. He holds Steve tightly as the other man lets out one giant sob. He rubs the other man’s back in small circles. 

   “I understand, baby. I feel responsible too, like I should have stopped her from touching the damn thing in the first place,” he says quietly. 

   Steve pulls back, regarding him with wet eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

   “Neither was it yours,” Tony replies. 

   Steve lets out a rattling sigh. “Okay, point taken.” 

   Tony reaches up and kisses him. Steve kisses back, taking his face in one hand. 

   The door bursts open and they spring apart like teenagers making out in the high school supply closet. Bruce sticks his head in looking excited. 

   “She’s out of surgery. We can see her,” he says. 

   “Let’s go,” Tony cries and they all hurry out together. 

  
  


   They all get to say hello to her for a few minutes at a time. Natasha is awake, but drugged up and not fully aware of everything that is unfolding. But she is alive and she smiles at them and that makes the whole terrible day seem brighter. After a bit they all leave so Clint can have time alone with his best friend, the rest of them standing in the hallway and talking about what to do next. 

   “We should all get some rest,” Steve says. “Clint can stay with her for now. They said she’ll need to stay in the hospital for observation for a few days.” 

   “We can take shifts,” Bruce suggests. “Each of us stays with her for a while until she can come home.” 

   They all agree that this is the best course of action. Steve gently reminds them all that they are expected at the fundraising event tomorrow night, but that aside from that there is no reason they can’t all spend the rest of their time at the hospital. An ad-hoc schedule is set up and they all go their separate ways, still trailed by the floating cameras, though now they seem to be giving Tony a wide berth. 

  
  


   That door to Steve’s bedroom opens in the middle of the night and he rolls over to see Tony half-dressed wandering into the shadows. 

   “This okay?” he whispers. 

   “Of course,” Steve replies, scooting over and pulling back the covers. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

   “Just...we haven’t been spending the night together lately because of the cameras everywhere. I wasn’t sure.” 

   “As long as you don’t mind slumming it in a regular old mattress I see no problem,” Steve observes, wrapping his arms around Tony when the other man slides into bed. “It’s nice to hold you.” 

   “It’s nice to be held,” he replies. “After the day we’ve had…” 

   “I know,” Steve sighs against his skin. “I was thinking...what if it had been you. I don’t think I could take seeing you like that, Tony. The way she looked on the ground.” 

   Tony turns his face and kisses him. “Don’t talk like that.” 

   “It’s just...that could be any of us at any time. We all live dangerous lives and I feel like I should tell you...how I feel.” 

   “Steve,” Tony says, his voice tight. “I don’t need you to. Not right now. Tomorrow, okay? Or any other day. Tonight I just...need you.” 

   The soldier hesitates and Tony wonders if he’s feeling rejected. But then his expression relaxes and he leans in, capturing Tony’s lips in a passionate kiss. 

   “Okay,” he agrees, “later.” 

   And there is no more need for words.


	6. Six

   Natasha’s recovery is going smoothly. She is awake and aware enough to tease them all about being excused from the gala that evening. She does, however, compliment their finery when they show up to check in on her before the event. She insists on fixing Clint’s tie, sitting up in bed while he grouses but seems pleased by the attention anyway. She wishes them all well and sends them on their way. 

   Andrea Rothfuss is waiting outside the hospital dressed in a long silver gown that looks like starlight. She has two limousines waiting. 

   “Steve, Tony, will you join me?” she asks, gesturing to the first car. 

   “Oooh, someone is in trouble,” Clint cooes. 

    Tony elbows him but does shoot a look of concern at the big blonde. Steve gives a little shrug and opens the door for Rothfuss. Tony follows and settled in across from her. Steve is last, sitting a respectable distance from his teammate.

    Tony looks around. “No cameras?”

    Rothfuss shakes her head. There is a quality to her that makes Tony uncomfortable like she knows something they don't. She is smiling in a particularly unsettling way when she switches on a small television and says, “We got some great stuff this week. I thought you might want to see an early cut.” 

   She pushes a button on the remote and sweet sappy music fills the car. They pull away from the curb.

    “Isn't this a little saccharine for a documentary?” Tony asks, frowning.

    “Just watch,” Rothfuss shushes him.

    A series of images full the screen and Tony falls into stunned silence. This is what he sees: 

 

_     Tony is in the kitchen fiddling with the coffee maker and talking with Bruce. Steve, on the other side of the room, is staring at him with a soft smile. He looks like a man in love.  _

_     Steve is sitting on a stool, Tony leaning over his shoulder looking at something unseen. They are smiling and laughing. Tony’s hand is on Steve’s shoulder.  _

_     They are throwing popcorn at each other, Tony ducking behind the couch as Steve assails him with snack foods. He tosses a pillow which Steve bats aside with ease. Steve ducks down, lying flat on the floor so that when Tony pops over the back of the couch he is momentarily stunned. Then he gets a cushion in the face and goes down, howling with laughter.  _

_     Steve is sitting in the sunny spot he likes by the window and sketching. He’s doing a good job of hiding what he’s drawing until the camera shifts over his shoulder. Then it is clear he’s drawing Tony’s face. The entire page is full of similar images. _

Tony glances at Steve across the seat and finds himself grinning. Steve is smiling too, his cheeks flushed.

_     On the video, they are kneeling side by side next to Natasha on the ground. Steve is holding Tony’s hand even though it's still in the gauntlet. He doesn't even remember doing that.  _

_     Tony is holding Steve in his arms while he cries in the hospital break room. Tony strokes his face and tells him it will be all right.  _

_     Tony is in the lab, working. He receives a video call from Steve which pops up on his second monitor. The smile that dawns over his face when he glances at it cannot be ignored. It is the biggest goofiest smile he has ever seen.  _

_     Steve and Tony are dancing to Unchained Melody, swaying together in the gym. The focus zooms in on Steve’s face, eyes closed, cheek resting on top of Tony’s head. They turn and Tony’s face becomes visible, pressed against Steve's shoulder. His eyes are wet and he is smiling like it's his birthday and Christmas and his wedding and every good day he has ever had on earth.  _

    The video fades out to darkness. Rothfuss switches off the screen and faces the two stunned men across from her.

    “You cheated,” Tony accuses without any real heat.

    “And you lied,” she answers.

    “When?” Steve asks, looking offended.

    “I asked if any of you were in a relationship.”

    “You said a _functional_ relationship,” Tony argues. “I wouldn't know one of those is it came up and bit me on the--”

    “Anyway,” Steve says, “Miss Rothfuss--”

    “Andrea, please,” she answers mildly. 

    “Andrea, this… It's not part of the documentary, is it?”

    She shakes her head, smiling. “No, it's not. We've edited around you two and your goo-goo eyes. I just thought you might like to see the B reel, so to speak. Although if you ever did change your mind it'd make for a great addition to the story. Everyone loves love.”

    Tony leans forward, hands on his knees. “That’s all? No blackmail, no extortion?”

    She actually laughs at that. “Normally, sure. I’m certainly not above a little dirty pool. But, today? No.” 

   “Why?” Tony prods. 

   “Why? Because I’m a romantic at heart. And you two? Well, you’re about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she spreads her hands, “take it or leave it.” 

   The car stops. 

   “I guess we’ll take it,” Steve says, glancing at Tony with a smirk. 

   “I sent you both a copy, by the way. You can save it for the wedding. Take a minute to collect yourselves if you want, I’ll see you both on the inside,” she says, reaching for the door handle. “Take ‘em around the block again,” she tells the driver before climbing out into the brilliance of a hundred camera flashes. She shuts the door quickly behind her and the car pulls away. 

   Tony stares at his own hands in his lap, mind whirring with activity. He starts talking at the exact same moment Steve does. They stop, start again at the same time, stop again. 

   “You go,” Steve says graciously - because, of course. 

   Tony takes a deep breath. “I’m not good at relationships. I have never had one that lasted more than a few months because that’s how long it takes me to colossal fuck up and send the other person packing. I love..being with you, but I think you need to understand what you’re getting into.” 

   Steve faces him implacably. “Do you have any other obvious news for me? Like, perhaps, that the sky is blue?” 

   Tony frowns. ‘I’m being serious.” 

   “I know, I know,” Steve scoots over so they are close enough to touch, taking Tony’s hand in his. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t joke. It’s just...you act like I don’t know who you are. I do. And I love you.” 

   Their eyes meet. Tony feels like he might start to cry for one frightening moment, but the urge leaves him. 

   “Besides, I’m not perfect either,” Steve adds. 

   “Do you want a second opinion?” Tony asks with a smirk. 

   “I’m serious. I’m pigheaded, I need a lot of time alone, I have a black belt in avoidance-” 

   “Stop drilling, baby, you’ve struck oil,” Tony sighs and kisses him. “Any more and I’ll swoon.” 

   Steve chuckles, wrapping him up in his arms. 

   “So?” he says slowly. 

   Tony bats his eyelashes. “So, what?” 

   “So, I love you. And…?” 

   “Hooray,” Tony answers barely keeping his grin in check. 

   “Tony,” Steve whines. He makes the sad puppy face. 

   “Oh god, no! Okay, okay. I love you. I love you. I’ll shout it from the rooftops, just put the sad face away. There should have to be a government sanction for you to use that thing.” 

   They kiss again as the limo pulls back up in front of the hall. 

   “Ready to face the music?” Steve asks. 

   “Honey, I was born ready.” 


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's got some smut, y'all. Fair warning. Also, just a sickening amount of fluff. OH IT'S SO FLUFFY!

It turns out there is an antidote to stage fright and that is Tony Stark saying the words “I love you”. Steve spends the rest of the night in a cloud, happier than he can remember being in years. They are both still careful to keep their deepened connection on the down-low (though the video indicated just how good they are at that pastime) but whenever their eyes meet he feels like his heart might burst from love. 

He dances with several different partners and holds up his end very well. His confidence increases exponentially with every execution and he hopes Natasha will be proud when she sees the footage. Tony does his fair share of schmoozing and takes a few turns on the dance floor as well. He moves with effortless grace, charming his partners and executing elaborate steps. It is a pleasure to watch him. 

When Steve steps up to give his speech, he is without trepidation. His prepared notes sit before him typed and orderly and probably more or less what the audience expects. He looks at them, clears his throat, and then sees Tony down in the front row saluting him with a glass of champagne. Suddenly he knows with total clarity what to do. He folds up his notes and sets them aside. 

“When I first woke up here, in the future, I thought I would never get the hang of it. Everything seemed so loud, so bright, so unfamiliar. And don’t even get me started on Twitter,” this observation draws a few chuckles. “I thought the New York City that was home to me might be gone forever, a relic just like me. I shut myself off for a long time, sure that I would never belong. But the more I started to go out and explore this new world the more the similarities started to show through. I started to see some of the same stories unfolding around me that I used to know from when I was a kid. The single mom working two jobs to support her children. The soldier returning home from war to the embrace of his loving family. The guy at the newsstand who always knows the latest gossip about everyone in the neighborhood. You know what I’m talking about. And I started to feel for the first time like there might be hope for me here. Like I might still be able to go home.” 

He pauses, scanning the crowd. Everyone is watching him intently, several are wiping their eyes. Tony is looking at him like he is the best most interesting individual ever to descend from the heavens. 

“This city has saved me many times,” he says quietly, “and honestly I’m just trying to return the favor. I’ve found my purpose here. I’ve been able to work with the most amazing people. I’ve fallen in love.” 

There is a smattering of applause. Someone shouts, “With who?” The crowd carries this query and repeats it in a wave, the same noisy question echoing from all corners of the room. He looks down and catches Tony’s eye, raising his eyebrows. Tony glances around and shrugs as if to say,  _ Yeah, sure, who cares?  _

“Do you want to come up here?” Steve asks him. 

Tony nods and clambers on stage. There is a very distinct moment of silence as the crowd digests this information. 

“Hi,” Tony says into the microphone. “Tony Stark. Captain America’s boyfriend. How are you?” He speaks as casually as if he is announcing the weather. 

Whispers move through the room along with a few exclamations. Then a huge cheer erupts from the front of the room where all of the Avengers (minus Natasha) are gathered. They whoop and holler. Clint brackets his mouth with his hands and shouts for all he is worth. Thor claps his hands loud enough to rattle the glassware. And after a moment everyone else follows suit. 

Steve takes Tony’s hand and the crowd loses it. Tony kisses him and they somehow manage to make even  _ more _ noise. 

“Cat’s out of the bag,” Tony whispers in his ear. 

“And halfway down the block,” Steve agrees. 

Neither of them find that they particularly care. 

“Does this mean I can dance with you now?” Tony asks. 

“Only if you promise to let me lead,” Steve answers and they both laugh. 

  
  


   Jillian Woolton has been driving limousines the entire time she has been in college. It’s not the most exciting gig, but it pays the bills and sometimes she makes a particularly significant tip from a drunk passenger and she can eat something other than microwave noodles for a few days. 

   She is just sitting in her car jamming out to her favorite Indie band when there is a knock on the glass separating her from the passengers. Startled, she rolls it down and has to control herself as a wave of fangirl worship rolls through her. Tony Stark rests his elbows on the window and gives her a winning smile. 

   “Hi, how’s it going? What are you listening to?” She starts to answer and he cuts her off. “Crank it. Yeah, louder. Good, that’s good. Listen, here're three hundred bucks. Just keep driving until I tell you not to, all right? And try to avoid sharp turns.” 

   Jillian looks in shock at the stack of bills in her lap and all she can do is the nod. “Yeah...whatever you say!” 

   “That’s what I like to hear,” Tony Stark says and disappears into the back. 

   Jillian does as she is bid and drives, merging into light traffic with her music at an ear-splitting volume. 

  
  


   “Ah, yes,” Steve moans, running his fingers through Tony’s hair as the other man expertly undoes him with lips and tongue. 

   Tony is crouched between Steve’s legs on the floor of the limo, his head bobbing up and down on the other man’s cock, sucking like it’s his job. His jacket is off, discarded somewhere in the car, his tie loose, his shirt unbuttoned and draped around his chest from which the arc reactor glows softly. 

   “Like that?” he says breathlessly, pulling off to lick his lips. 

   “God, yes. Are you...are you sure this is a good idea, though?” Steve asks, his eyes glassy. 

   “Aw,” Tony cooes, “you’ve never had sex in a moving car before. That is so cute.” 

   Steve blushes. “Leave it to you,” he sighs. 

   Tony climbs up, straddling him and stripping himself down from the waist up. He grinds their erections together, his still trapped beneath layers of fabric. Steve’s head flops back onto the seat, his mouth opening wide. Tony starts to reach for the buttons of his shirt, Steve is still remarkably clothed, when the other man lays a big hand on his. 

   “I want you naked and I fully clothed,” Steve says huskily, looking into Tony’s eyes with the kind of dominance and power that never fails to make the other man weak in the knees. 

   “Oh, yeah,” Tony moans. He moves onto the adjacent seat for a moment, wriggling out of his pants, toeing off his shoes and abandoning his socks to the whims of fate. Then, completely naked, he climbs back onto Steve’s lap. 

   Now there is only the slide of skin against skin when they rub up against each other, each of them moaning at the sensation. Steve’s hands come up to caress Tony’s body, sliding from his neck down over his nipples and curving into the bones of his hips. They kiss passionately, tongues tangling, Steve’s fingers holding Tony fast at the base of the skull. 

   “I love you,” Steve whispers when they part for breath, “You’re mine.” 

   “Yes,” Tony breathes. 

   “I’m going to take what’s mine,” he promises in a low voice, reaching out to stoke Tony’s cock with his fist. Tony arches his back, biting his lip to hold back a cry. 

   “I brought...in my jacket pocket,” Tony groans, looking around for his clothes. “It’s somewhere.” 

   “Go get it,” Steve instructs with a smack on Tony’s ass. The other man scrambles off of him, rooting around until he unearths his jacket and frees the little packet of lube he has stashed there. He hands it over to Steve and then climbs back on top when the bigger man spreads his arms in invitation. 

   Steve drizzles lube on his cock, stroking it with purpose as he kisses Tony thoroughly. He groans into the other man’s mouth. The car stops suddenly and they are both jostled, lube spilling onto the leg of Steve’s pants. No one particularly cares. 

   “Are you ready?” he asks in a husky voice. “You want this dick?” 

   “Yes, oh yeah, I’m so ready,” Tony replies, bracing himself against the plush wall of the limo as Steve positions his cock. He raises himself up a few inches and then slowly, slowly, lowers until he is panting and Steve is buried deep inside of him. Steve wraps him in his arms, still in their fancy tuxedo jacket, and Tony starts to ride. 

   When they first started sleeping together Steve was reluctant to take control, afraid that he would do something Tony did not like. But after enough time together he gained confidence and they fell easily into their roles. Tony had not suspected he would enjoy giving over control so much, but when he did it felt as natural as breathing. 

   “That’s it,” Steve moans, “Take that cock.” 

   Tony sighs, bracing himself on Steve’s shoulders as he pumps himself up and down. He is moving slowly, knowing it will rile the other man up. Steve likes it hard and fast and the longer he can deny him the more enthusiastically the super soldier will remedy the situation. Which he does only a moment later, grabbing Tony’s hips and using his ungodly strength to lift him up and down at a punishing pace. 

   Tony cries out. “Oh, fuck yeah!” 

   “You like that?” Steve asks. 

   “I love it,” Tony answers. 

   “Are you gonna take my load like a good boy?” 

   Tony nods frantically, his hands fisted in Steve’s jacket, his body covered in sweat. 

   “You’re gonna get it. Here it comes,” Steve announces, his voice tight. A moment later he thrusts brutally into Tony’s ass, pumping hard and yelling through gritted teeth. Tony throws his head back, moaning as Steve mouths his nipples even through his own rippling aftershocks. 

   Before he can even take a breath Steve has Tony on his back, pulling out of him in one swift motion and slithering down the leather seats to suck his dick. Tony is in sensory overload, pleading, moaning, and carrying on in a way he wouldn’t even recognize were he to see it from the outside. This is what Steve does to him. 

   The blonde sucks Tony’s dick into his throat, milking it, and gently fondling his balls with the other hand. His fingers snake down to Tony’s abused hole, smearing around the lube and cum that have collected there. He puts one finger inside, pumping it in and out as he mirrors the motion on Tony’s cock. This is one of Tony’s favorite things in the world and it takes only a moment before his body is tense spine arching, and he’s spraying cum into Steve’s waiting mouth. 

   “Oh my hell,” Tony moans, catching his breath as Steve extracts the last ounces of seed from his balls. “That was incredible.” 

   The blonde pulls off and grins. “You’re incredible.” 

   “Stop. You’re just drunk on pheromones.” 

   “And you’re just drunk,” Steve counters. 

   “Nuh-uh! I was a very good boy.” 

   “Yes, yes you are,” he responds, pulling his naked lover into the circle of his arms and holding him fast. Tony leans in, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

   “We’re good together, aren’t we?” Tony says quietly. 

   “The best,” Steve agrees. 


	8. Eight

They call the documentary  _ Behind The Mask _ which everyone agrees is a totally stupid title. They all gather in the living room to watch when it airs. Of course, they have all already seen it, having approved it months earlier, but it feels different to know there are thousands, maybe even millions, of others watching it too. 

   The documentary paints them all in a sympathetic light, highlighting their friendships along with their individual backstories. A great deal of time is spent watching them work together; Steve and Natasha sparring, Tony and Bruce working in the lab, Thor and Clint playing Mario Kart. The last third of the show focuses on the rooftop fight with AIM, Natasha’s injury, and her subsequent recovery. It shows the team pulling together, taking care of one of their own, and though none of them share it during the viewing, makes them all a little emotional. In addition, Steve and Tony granted permission to add in their own love story which is sprinkled throughout, culminating in Steve’s very public coming out at the banquet. When Steve and Tony dance together in the gym Thor hiccups and blows his nose noisily into a handkerchief. 

   “Do you think it will be well received?” Bruce asks when the end credits roll. 

   “Who the hell knows,” Tony says with a shrug. 

   “We’re trending on twitter,” Clint announces, looking at his phone. 

   “When are we not?” Natasha puts in, laying her feet on his lap. 

   “I liked it,” Steve says. 

   “And I as well,” Thor agrees. 

   “You would. You big sap,” Tony accuses, battering the demigod with a pillow. 

   “I thought it a fair and accurate portrayal of our band of warriors,” Thor booms, “Even Hulk was well represented in the narrative.”

   Bruce nods thoughtfully. “I don’t see how it can hurt.” 

   Clint grunts, arms crossed over his chest. “I still don’t like it.” 

   “You would,” Natasha says, echoing Tony. They all laugh. 

   “I’m off to bed,” Steve announces, rising from his chair. “We’ve got drills in the morning, everyone, don’t forget. Gotta stay sharp!” 

   There is a chorus of unhappy moans like campers being informed of a five-mile hike the next day. Steve waves them off good-naturedly and bids them all a good night. 

   “You know, I’ve got some work to do. I’ll ride the elevator with you,” Tony says, springing up and dodging a return pillow attack from Thor. 

   No one misses the smile Steve gives him as they head off down the hallway together. 

   “They better not forget me,” Clint says when the two have disappeared. 

   “What?” Bruce asks, brow furrowed. 

   “When they’re making out wedding invitations. No way am I not going to attend that big gay celebration.” 

   Natasha kicks him and everyone snickers. 

   “I just hope they do it soon. The wait is killing me,” Bruce says with a chuckle. 

   “Theirs is a blessed union indeed,” Thor adds looking wistful. 

   In the elevator, Steve puts his arms around Tony and kisses him sweetly.  _ Unchained Melody _ plays over the speakers. 

   “JARVIS,” Tony says, “you are the best wingman ever.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww. So fluffy. I'm almost embarrassed by how much fun I had writing this. Happy Stony is so much fun. 
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to know what YOU think! I appreciate feedback of all stripes, so no matter your opinion it would mean the world to me if you dropped a quick comment. Not to mention I'm always looking for ideas so if you have any Stony inspiration you're dying to share I'd love to hear that as well. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: You guys! I'm officially a published author! Woo! If you want to check out my book you can find it here: https://www.cmrandles.com/books (it's chock full of juicy romance and gay porn, I promise!)


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